Our own infestation of vermin is under control thanks to Tennyson (the new cat). He came with the highest accolades and I must tell you that he certainly lives up to them. He looks like a brute with half of one ear missing but I find myself becoming quite fond of him. Perhaps we all must find something to attach ourselves to in such unsettling times. Sometimes, I feel I could be blown away on the breeze like a dandelion seed if I don’t grasp hold of something solid and permanent and unchanging. No wonder we all flock to church every Sunday. There is a comfort in such permanence as that offered by the centuries-old walls and a vicar who is nearly as old.
The Language of Stamps, you clever boy! Of course I know about it, but hardly thought you would bother with such a thing! Your message was “forget me not.” Impossible, Tom. I’ve known you too long for that! I’ve sent a message back. Be sure to check your envelope.
Well, I will sign off for now because I have a cramp from writing so much and I have a charity luncheon to dress for (another fund-raiser) and then I’m going up to London to hear an address by Emmeline Pankhurst. You will remember her from the suffrage movement she and her sister started before the war. They have called an end to their militant activities and are focusing their efforts on galvanising the women of Britain to help in the war effort. I’m intrigued to hear what she has to say. I’m hoping to convince Mama to come with me on the pretence of buying a new hat. I’m hopeful that if she hears others speak with passion about the necessity for women to do their bit, she will acquiesce in her refusal to let me even discuss the matter.
Do write soon. I hate the days and weeks that pass without word from either you or Will. I never had to wait for anything in my life. I’m not very good at it.
Your friend,
Evie Elliott
P.S. I hope you like the gloves (despite the lack of fingers). A new knitting venture of mine. I recall that you have rather large hands, although looking at these I find it impossible to think of anyone having hands quite that large. I hope they will be of some use to you, if only for the unravelled wool, which I’m sure you’ll be able to find some clever use for.
From Evie to Will
15th February, 1915
Richmond, England
My dearest Will,
Mama insists I write to you again. She can hardly bear to put pen to paper herself. It upsets her so much and sets off one of her headaches. We hear regularly from Tom, so at least we are assured that you are alive and well but you really must send word to Mama. She worries so, and you know how fragile her nerves are at the best of times. Please write a few lines to her, even if you can’t find time to write to your favourite little sister who misses you dreadfully and still finds herself wandering aimlessly into your room for no other reason than to somehow feel closer to you.
We think of you every day and you are always in our prayers. Stay safe, brother, and remember we are all very proud of you.
Your ever-loving sister,
Evie
P.S. I have the most marvellous gift for you when you come home!
From Thomas to Evie
25th February, 1915
Somewhere in France
Dear Evie,
I apologise for the delay in replying, but things have been busy here. There are few moments I can truly relax, most of them when I fall into an exhausted sleep, unable to hold it together another moment.
I’m relieved to hear you’re safe. I abhor the thought of those damned Germans raiding London. You can understand now, what it feels like here, if only a little. Be safe my friend, and well. You must be brave for others when the zeppelins come. Your family and friends need your strong spirit to see them through.
As for talk of love, I never took you for a cynic. Paul Humphreys really broke your heart, didn’t he? There are plenty of romances built on sturdy foundations. Look at Queen Victoria and Prince Albert. She mourned his death for decades. Romeo and Juliet? I know you’ve read that one at least a dozen times. How about your parents? I’ve never seen an old couple so in love. Remember the day we were playing pontoon? They came into the study, and we hid under a blanket behind the sofa. When they started kissing, I blushed so hard I think every last freckle on my face burned up. Come to think of it, where was Will during all of that? Sometimes he disappeared to God knows where.
What they say about rats in the trenches is true. They’re bigger than any I ever saw in London. Those were charming country mice in comparison. These rodents are well fed, practically the size of a small dog. The men take turns using them for target practice. I know how you like the hunt yourself, or I wouldn’t mention shooting the filthy things, but then, you never were easily frightened, were you? I can see you in my mind’s eye now, dark hair flying out from under your hat, gun in your hands. You were certainly made from a different mould to other girls, except maybe your friend, Alice. Your poor mother wanted nothing but a well-bred society lady. You’ve given her far more than she bargained for—good for you.
Are you writing again? I hope so. What’s the latest from town? Tell me about Mrs. Pankhurst and the luncheon. I imagine tea cakes, marmalade and scones, ham slices, and all the buttered carrots you can eat. My stomach is groaning just writing these words. When I come home, all I’m going to do is eat. I’ll eat until I’m fat as a sow, and enjoy every minute of it.
I suppose I should ask how dinner went with John Hopper. Did your mother take to him as you suspected? He’s a handsome devil, but be careful around him. He’s not known for treating a lady well. Do take care, Evelyn.
I badgered your brother to write. (See letter inside.)
Your friend,
Tom
P.S. My knowledge of the stamps is limited to say the least, but your brother assures me the positioning of your last means you think of me. I should think so, too!
From Will to Evie
Dearest Favourite (only!) Little Sister,
Please give Mama my love. Tell her I’m as safe as can be expected out here at the Front. As luck would have it, for the next three days I’ll be away from the main action and staying at billets in a local town. Looking forward to bathing and shining up nicely for a change, enjoying a small piece of the normal life. Small accomplishments are rather important these days. I’m not sure how much longer I can put on a happy face. I’m missing home, and you.
Your brother,
Will
From Alice to Evie
26th February, 1915
Brighton, England
Dear Evie,
I had a smashing time with you last weekend—it always cheers me to see your face, and I was happy to see you back on your feet, cold banished. We really should make the effort to see each other more often. Brighton isn’t the moon, after all, and neither is Richmond. Either of us can take the train whenever we like and be together in no time at all. Shame on us for making excuses. No longer!